


Peace Offering

by bluestrawberryiii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, also just a note that for the purposes of this fic im assuming lotor is good, and dammit im in charge when i write, if i say he’s a good guy then by god within the hallowed halls of my ao3 he is, irl i have my doubts but i want him to be a good guy so bad, this is mediocre af probably but dangit i need CONTENT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 07:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestrawberryiii/pseuds/bluestrawberryiii
Summary: After Oriande, Lotor is left alone. Hunk tries to make him feel welcome.





	Peace Offering

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this good art](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/365442) by tumblr user vulpyx. 



It was a strange journey back from Oriande. In a way, exploring the place he’d spent centuries researching had felt more like a homecoming than returning to his father after an assignment had ever felt. In Oriande, he’d felt connected to something old, rich; something more than the destruction he’d inherited from his father. For a brief time, Lotor had felt grounded. Like he belonged there, in a way he had never felt as the half-blooded prince of the Galra. In a way he certainly could never feel on this couch, his presence a constant lurking threat in the minds of his new allies.

He wished he had something to do. A book to read. A project to help with. A room to retreat to. Someone to speak with. He would have liked to spend more time with Allura; if not for her wit and kindness, then at least for the company of someone who didn’t regard him with blatant distrust. But Oriande and the subsequent opening of the wormhole had taken a lot out of her, and Lotor was under the impression that she had retired to her chambers for the near future.

He supposed he could explore - in theory, he had the freedom to do that. But he doubted his new allies would appreciate him wandering around unescorted. The Holt children especially. Also, he had never been given a tour. More than likely, he would just get humiliatingly lost.

So there he sat. On the couch. Alone. Staring out the viewport as the empty void of space slid endlessly by.

It was then that the door behind him softly hissed open. Lotor tried not to look guilty when he turned towards the sound.  _ I  _ am  _ allowed here _ , he reminded himself. This was, in fact, the only room he had been shown, aside from the war room and his cell.

It was the one with the headband. He was holding a plate of… round things. “Hey!” The cheer in his voice sounding a bit forced, but it was the thought that counted. “Lotor!”

Lotor wracked his brain. He knew this one’s name; Lance had used it during one of the debates in front of his cell. H… Harnell? Hank? Those were human names, probably. He hadn’t looked much into them. They didn’t sound right, at any rate. He decided to play it safe. “You’re the yellow paladin, correct?”

“Yeah. Hunk’s fine, though,” he said, sitting down next to Lotor. There was just enough distance to show he was uncomfortable, but the fact that he was trying spoke volumes. “I uh… I brought you some cookies.” He offered up the plate of brown circles. “It sucks not knowing anyone, so I thought… y’know.” He shrugged.

Lotor’s first thought was poison, though that was silly. If the paladins wanted him dead, they could have done it any number of times.

Unless, of course, they’d decided that he was more danger than he was worth, now that he’d led them to Oriande. It would blow a hole in the fragile peace they’d engineered, but if he’d learned anything growing up amongst Galra warlords, it was that all the treaties and goodwill in the world couldn’t stop a disgruntled underling with a knife.

Or a plateful of poison.

Political life had ruined him. He took the plate. “What are they?” he asked. They smelled good. And he was hungry. And Hunk really didn’t seem like the poisoning type.

Hunk gaped at him. “You’ve never had chocolate chip cookies before?”

“I… no?”

Having the upper hand seemed to agree with Hunk. Immediately, his posture relaxed, and a wide grin spread across his cheeks. “Oh man, you gotta try them. They’re pretty popular back home.”

When Lotor didn’t immediately dig in, Hunk must have taken his caution for confusion, because he picked up one of the cookies and took a bite. “See? Like this.”

Human physiology wasn’t all too different from the Galra. If anything, they were more fragile. Certainly too fragile to ingest poison. Resistance crumbling, Lotor delicately picked up one of the cookies and took a small bite.

It was good. Crisp and sweet, with little gooey bits in every bite. “This is incredible,” he murmured, before going in for another bite. “You have these on Earth?”

“I mean, they’re not exactly the same. I had to substitute basically everything. The chocolate chips are actually some fruit Lance found on a mission once, and the flour is ground-up nuts I bought from the mall. But…” He shot Lotor a smile. “I think they’re close enough.”

Lotor ate another. “You seem determined to perfect the recipe. Do cookies hold cultural significance on Earth?”

Hunk laughed. “What? No, man. They’re just good.” He paused for a moment. The smile in his eyes dropped into something more wistful. “It’s just nice to have something to remind you of home, you know?”

“It’s only natural to miss your home.” A few days ago, he might not have understood. But the empty feeling in his chest, the longing to go back… It might not be exactly the same, but it was close. “If all goes well, you’ll be able to go back soon.”

That earned him an odd look. “I hope you’re right,” Hunk finally said. Then he stood up, gathering the empty plate. “I’m gonna go make some more. Wanna help?”

Lotor knew a peace offering when he saw it. He stood and gestured to the door. “After you.”

**Author's Note:**

> *chugs a whole pot of coffee* this is unedited and was written at 6am on the bus come the Fuck at me


End file.
